Title: Why the Sixth Law of Magic Exists
Rating: T
Summary: Emily Mulder, wizard for the White Council, is the victim of someone's violation of the Sixth law of magic. Of course the White Council decides to help her and naturally the X-Files brings them all together. Crossover of the Dresden Files.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of Jim Butcher's or Chris Carter's characters and I'm making nothing from this.
Chapter 3
To argue that putting someone in jail at F.B.I headquarters is probably a bad idea due to the fact that said person will most likely blow up anything that as a live circuit is going to be a lost argument. Being in the past means that information hasn't been divulged. I wrote a note to McCoy, telling him where I was, and left with my parents. I had to place a tightly wound dampening spell over myself or I would have caused their car to stall. I'm not like Harry, who has a phobia about technology. We just don't have a mutual understanding of the universe.
When we arrived the woman asked me to put all of my items on a tray, I was searched, which I don't like, and then I was given a very nice orange jumpsuit, finished processing, and placed in a cell. I made faces to the camera, still keeping that spell active. It would only come down when I went to sleep. I wasn't worried, let them spend a week without power.
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"She's not even on file, at all," Agent Thomas told Scully. "And I mean she has never had a State I.D, Driver's License, nothing."
"What name did she give you?"
"Emily Whitehorse," he answered.
"Get a DNA test," Scully ordered. "Her DNA at least will tell us if she's dangerous."
"I'll get right on it."
When Scully left she went back to her shared office with Mulder, not really thinking anything was going to be odd about the test. She really should have not thought that.
"Do you think she did it?" Mulder asked her.
"I'm most certain of it," she said. "Well maybe not the dead body with half its body inside a bank vault. That's impossible for one person to do, but I do believe that she knew of the bank robbery. Police found the woman's body, covered in bugs. I'm going to guess that she's probably going to be rotten on the inside."
"What do you think about this Hand of Glory that she's talking about?"
"Mulder, the thing doesn't exist," she said. "And even if it does who would want to use something like that?"
"Someone that thinks money is free," Mulder answered.
"They would have to really be sick to use something that disgusting," she said.
"Agents, she's asked for a marker," one of the guards said.
"For what reason?"
"She said to keep your power from going out," he answered.
"Fine, let her have it."
He nodded and left them alone.
"Why did you tell him that she could have one?" she asked Mulder.
"I want to see what she writes."
"Well it won't be a confession," she said.
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It took me three hours to draw the symbols on the floor and the wall. I might not care if the power goes out and ruins their reports that they are writing but I'm not a total jerk. I'm not a fan of trapping people in elevators. I added my will to the symbols and then took down my own damping spell. The lights stayed on, which I was glad about. They had already used me as a human pincushion, was that even used now, and had swabbed my mouth.
The woman had been nice, she had let me have water.
I used the time to think about what had happened. The Hand of Glory, I had sent a message to McCoy during my one phone call, telling him of what I knew and that someone else had the thing now. The only thing that I could do was wait and see if the Wardens were able to find him before he ended up in some coroner's cold storage. It was going to happen, but I didn't want it to happen so soon.
"Meal time," the man said.
"Thanks," I said and I took it and started to eat.
It was stew, bread, and water.
"Don't you want a lawyer?" he asked me.
"Nope," I answered. "Just waiting on something big to happen."
"Like what?"
"The truth," I told him. "I remember my father once telling me that the truth is always out there. Since I didn't do anything wrong, I don't need a lawyer."
"Your call," he said and he left.
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"The DNA results," Agent Thomas told them. "And I can tell you she's not on file, but her parents are."
"Wait a minute how can her DNA not be on file, but her parents are?"
"Because their Federal Employees," he said.
"Who's DNA was on file?"
"You and Agent Mulder," Thomas replied. "Congratulations!"
She read over the results. "Due to the fact that the subject has no DNA on file, due to never being processed through the system, we had to use another source to identify her. Her DNA markers matched Dana Scully and Fox Mulder."
"She's never committed a crime, never has had a ticket, and doesn't have a record of live birth."
"Wait a minute, the only way this is possible is if she's from the future."
"Mulder, that's impossible," she said. "Time travel doesn't exist."
"Well how do you account for this?"
"I don't know."
"Could the sample of been tinted?"
"No," he said. "The sample was pure and untainted. The results are correct."
"I need time to process this," Scully told them.
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"You have a visitor," the guard said. "Get up."
"She doesn't need to move," the man said and he walked past the guard and stood there. "The Merlin sends his regards."
"I'm glad," I said. "So what have they said about the Hand of Glory?"
"The Wardens did a tracking spell and they found at least seven locations. I'm guess that there are seven members that are left. Six of them were located, they said something about taking care of the nosey girl that ran Amanda from the scene. They believe that once they get rid of you that they can go back to what they're doing."
"I guess I'm safe here."
"We all know that's not true," he said. "This Hand of Glory will allow him to enter the building without anyone seeing him."
"And I'm counting on it," I told him.
"Emily, you're taking a huge risk," he said to me. "I don't care that Harry Dresden personally mentored to you. This man wants you dead."
"Don't you think I don't know that," I said. "But that's the risk we take when we are up against some of the nasties out there. Things that people want to shut their eyes and pretend doesn't exist. My parents faced things like this and I face things like this."
"They weren't Wardens, they were F.B.I agents."
"They still faced them."
"I'm going to try and get you out of here," he told me. "Since you didn't do anything wrong, then they have no reason to keep you here."
"If that's what you want," I told him and I watched him leave, hoping that I could get back to my apartment before psycho bank robber decided to try his hand at getting rid of me.
One of the things that you learn over the years is that if someone wants to get their claws on you they will do whatever is needed to do just that. And no building, no car, no cave, can keep them from finding their prey. I've faced Black Court vamps, teens so consumed by dark magic that they couldn't see things clearly anymore, demons, vengeful gods, court fae, and the monsters that live inside the closets of soon-to-be wizards. What my parents saw, or would see, was nothing to what I've seen in my fifteen years as a wizard.
The holding cell that I was in had a clock, thankfully it looked like something that had been installed in the nineteen fifties. Suddenly all the lights went out. I knew, right away, this wasn't my doing. Someone had pulled the switch. Someone was in this building. And I would bet my last bottle of whisky that it was our bank robber.
"I can't get the door open," someone said. "Ma'am, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I told him. "But you need to-."
He was gone. "Watch your back."
With no circuit moving I waved my hand and the cell opened. I walked out and made my way to the door. Waving my hand, it opened, and she stepped out. Laying on the table was a thick wooden stick. Someone was doing a wood project, most likely to ease the boredom of watching me. No one stopped me as they couldn't see where they were going.
"Get some damn flashlights," someone called out.
"Ignus Infusiarus," I said and a ball of light came out of my hand.
"What the hell?"
When someone sees magic for the first time those three words are usually the words that are spoken. Magic is so out of the reach of understanding that it takes several hundred years to even figure things out. That's why wizards live a long time. I remembered from my parent's stories that the power source was in the basement. So, this wizard, took the stairs. I ran as fast as I could, hoping to catch up to the little idiot before someone got hurt. That someone being my parent's.
"Duo et unum," I said, forcing my will to track the person.
Harry could only do it on a crystal point, I could do it on a much larger scale. Like finding a nut that had a hand of a dead man. A ball of blue light hovered and shot forward, and I ran after it. It hovered, moving this way and that, and I said, "I KNOW THAT YOU'RE HERE, ASSHOLE."
"So you do have mojo," the voice said.
"What are you doing here?"
"To kill you," the voice said. "You saw Amanda doing her little trick and I saw you when you found her. Though I must admit when Charles told me that you might be a problem, I didn't want to believe it. But Charles is always right."
"Is Charles the thief, the one who's hand your using."
"He's made us so much money," the voice said. "It's so easy to get in and take what we want."
"He's using you," I said. "He's a thief, and a killer, and you're playing along. Tell me something, sir, was Amanda your sister, girlfriend, wife?"
"AMANDA WAS NOTHING!" he bellowed.
"Tell me that you don't really believe that," I said. "She must have meant something to you. So how did you find me?"
"Simple, I followed you," he said. "Charles told me that if I followed you I could kill you."
"Not before I kill you," I said as my parent's and Skinner, who I figured was never too far behind, came behind me. "Let me give you a little insight in how the real world works. If I'm on the verge of death, I will use the last of my energy to blast your ass to hell. Charles, the one that has made you so much money, should have burned there a long time ago. He rots your body for the inside, makes you take chances, makes you forget what matters, fills you with the black. And as a wizard of the White Council my job is to ensure that you, and your lovely friend Charles, never causes anyone anymore pain.
"If it means that I die, I really don't care. I don't fear death, but Charles did. He feared it so much that he made a deal to have his hand turned into a candle. And guess what, little boy, he's dragging you all with him. Tell me something, how much blood have you thrown up? That's your life force, little boy, what he takes and his return policies suck."
"Your mojo won't-."
"Hay, try this for size and let's see how you like it. FULMINOS!"
Bolt after bolt of lighting came out of nowhere and traveled through all of the halls. A scream told me that I had made contact.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH," he screamed. "YOU DAMN FUCKING BITCH!"
"Hurts, doesn't it?" I said. "Hurts really bad. Your slime! Want another taste of ozone?"
Suddenly a figure came at me and I did a round kick, knocking him against the wall. He dropped the hand and I pointed the whittle stick at it. However, before I could say anything the hand lifted off the ground and started to reform. I watched in pure horror as it turned into a man.
"Charles," I said.
"Hello, Wizard," he said and he grabbed me around the neck. "I must admit that setting you up was way too easy."
"D-D-Don't," I told my mother.
"You better listen to her," he said. "Don't want to hurt your little baby girl."
I took the stick and rammed it into his neck. He dropped me, laughing.
"Thanks for the souvenir," he said, grinning at us.
"No, asshole, it's a wick," I said. "FUEGO!"
He was blasted off his feet and started to burn. He screamed in pain until he became nothing but a melted blob of wax.
"Enjoy hell," I snarled and I got up. "Now if you three don't mind, I'm going back to my cell. I'm tired, warn out, and I need rest."
"But-."
"As I once told a good friend of mine, I don't do paperwork," I told them and I left them behind.
